This weekend I went to a succulent show. These happen twice a year, and it’s something I really look forward to. Why? Because it’s a chance to get my hands on succulents and cacti that are difficult to find at nurseries and in shops, or too delicate to be planted out into pavement gardens and left defenseless and unattended for someone like me to swipe. At least twice a year I pay actual money for succulents, and consider it money well spent.

I’m always hesitant to buy succulents from shops (those little glass pots from Woolies etc) because there’s always the risk they haven’t been potted properly and the roots will rot and the plant will die. Which is why it’s better to buy directly from the experts, who know how to look after the plants they’re selling. They also dispense care advice before you buy, which is handy too.

This is what I got:

Because winter and frost is on its way, I won’t plant these out until the first rains of spring. They’ll sit on my front patio in their little pots where it’s sheltered from frost and cold.

Graptosedum bronze –

Needs at least 6 hours of full sun to develop a deep, rich red colour. If this plant gets too much shade it will be a pale, insipid greeny-brown colour.

Slow grower, slow spreader.

Stealing level: Easy. Snap off a stalk or two, and you’re good to go. Can propagate from leaf but it’s a slow grower, so be patient.

Low water requirements, but does need good drainage. Don’t plant it where the soil stays water-logged after rains.

Suitable for planting in containers.

Bright yellow flowers on a very tall stalk, late spring early summer.

Faucaria tigrina –

Also known as tiger’s jaw succulent.

Spiky leaves that look like a tiger’s open mouth with serrated toothsome edges. These grow in clumps, and they’re quite low to the ground.

I’ve planted these in a shallow biscuit tin, so they’re happy and won’t get smothered by bigger, sprawling plants.

These succulents need full sun. At least 3-4hours of direct sunlight, without which they will not flower.

These plants get a daisy-like flower in late autumn, but the blossom is very short-lived.

Low water requirements.

Stealing level: Challenging. You need to get a full plant. I have not tried to propagate from leaf. Worth paying money for.

Relatively fast grower.

Crassula perforata –

Also known as string of buttons. I’ve come across a variety of different plants that all fall under this same name, all basically stacked crassula.

Indigenous to South Africa.

This plant looks like stacks of buttons, and these stacks will eventually grow and spread into dense colonies. Mine hasn’t grown taller than 25cm, but it has spread substantially.

Stealing level: Relatively easy. Getting the plant to grow once you’ve stolen it? Another story. I bought this one, because I couldn’t get the cuttings I’d stolen to re-grow. But I have had success with other variations of this plant.

Needs a lot of sun, but protection from the midday sun.

Flowers in late autumn. Tiny little pink-white blossoms.

Low water needs.

Missed the succulent show? You can catch the next one. There’s a spring and autumn sale, so join the Johannesburg Succulent Society Facebook group here.

Got any questions about succulents or need help identifying* something in your garden? Leave me a comment or hit me up on Twitter.

*I’m not saying I’m an expert, I’m just interested. I don’t even know if I’ve correctly identified everything in my garden, I’m doing the best I can with a combination of google image search-by-upload and typing things like “pale green succulent that looks like anenome” into google images and seeing what pops up, and trying to match the pictures to the plant I see in my garden.

On Sunday night, I thought a hot bubble bath would be a great way to end off a good weekend. Toffee was watching his favourite movie (Planet 51, for the hundredth time), Kid was playing his iPad and dad was caught up in watching YouTube videos.

I ran my bath and slipped into the hot water, book at the ready. Marveled at the luxury of having a bubble bath while everyone in the house was awake. Congratulated myself at reaching a point in parenting, where I could leave my kids to their own devices and indulge in a hot bath. Took a deep breath and prepared to do some serious relaxing.

Toffee cruises down the passage and realises that mom’s in the bath, and barges into the bathroom. “Hi mom, want some toys in bah bath?”. (Toffee can’t say ‘the’. He says ‘bah’ instead) I decline his offer of toys, and he can’t understand why mom wouldn’t want ALL THE TOYS in the bath. “But mom, this is a dinosaur. Want bah dinosaur?”. Again, I decline his offer. “No thanks, boy. Mommy doesn’t want a dinosaur in the bath. “But mom, it’s not a real dinosaur, it’s just a toy. Not a serry (scary) dinosaur.” Yeah boy, that’s why mom doesn’t want a dinosaur in the bath. In case it’s a real one. Because real ones are scary. I manage to distract him from dumping all the toys in the bath, by playing a few rounds of peekaboo through the gap in the open bathroom door. Eventually he gets bored of me and wanders off. Awesome, I think. Time to get back to relaxing. I pick up my book.

“MOM, TRAVIS WON’T GIVE ME BACK MY THOR HAMMER.”

“MOOOM. I WANT PLAY WIF TROY’S THOR HAMMBER”.

[SHRIEKING. TEARS. FOOTSTOMPING.]

Dammit. I haven’t even been in the bath for 5 minutes and I’ve been bugged twice. I proceed to negotiate the handover of Troy’s Thor hammer (without getting out of the bath), and somehow manage to get Toffee to stop crying and lure him out of his brother’s room and back to the bathroom. Book now abandoned, I attempt to interest Toffee in doing something else, away from his brother and out of the bathroom. This fails. He’s still whining about ‘Thor’s hammber’. I attempt to interest him in getting into the bath with mommy. He backs out of the bathroom. “I don’t want to bath.”

I’m alone in the bath again. I pick up my book, open it to the right page. Toffee comes flying down the passage on his push car, and slams into the bathroom door. BEEP BEEP, MOMMY. I HAVE A HOOTER. BEEP BEEP ON MY CAR. He’s now bashing his car into the side of the bath.

This Toffee is a tough cookie. Stubborn, almost to a fault. Does things entirely in his own time, and cannot be pushed into doing anything he does not want to. This will serve him well as an adult, but like I’ve said before, I’m having a hard time time surviving him as a toddler.

Potty training. Something he wanted nothing of, a short month ago. Underpants were the devil’s work and he’d shriek and cry if I even brought underpants within a 3foot radius of him. Now he’s cool to wear underpants, cool to make a wee in the toilet, but hasn’t quite made peace with number 2 in the toilet. Wants nothing to do with it. Wants nothing to do with having a dump in a nappy either. Nope. Every poo has now turned into an impromptu in-pants party. Usually at the most inconvenient time. Yesterday, when we’d just got home from the succulent show. We were locked out the house (still had access to the outside bathroom, with a toilet) and Toffee decided to drop one in his underpants. Really awkward to clean without wet wipes so I had to wash his butt under the garden tap, with my hand. While my back was turned the sausage dog ate the contents of Toffee’s underpants, so there was one less mess for me to clean up. It also left me gagging for a few minutes.

Another new favourite place to let one loose is the bath. Usually while his brother is in the bath with him too. This happened the other night, when dad had gone out to gym and I was bathing both boys before bed. (Sidenote: we have a deal. I changed all the shitty nappies, dad does all the puke and fishes faeces out of the tub) Suddenly The Kid leapt out of the bath with a shriek “MOM, TOFFEE DID A DUMP IN THE BATH”. I ran in to check.

Sure enough. Massive poo. Just floating there. I got them both out the bath, and went back to clean up. Just my luck. My husband hasn’t been to gym in months, but the one night he decides to go, I’m left with a shitty situation to deal with. I think maybe letting the water out of the bath will be a good idea, so I do it. I come back into the bathroom, and there’s this turd. Just sticking up out of the plughole. Fuck. There’s still some water in the bath, so I can’t use toilet paper. I reach my hand in, and the poo disintegrates, leaving me scooping shit out of the bath with my bare fingers.

I tell my husband about it when he gets home. He’s laughing so hard I want to hit him. “Thanks for not leaving it for me to clean up,” he says, “I’d have been pissed.”. And suddenly I am pissed. Pissed with myself, for not even thinking of leaving it for him to clean up. Toffee has poo’d in his pants a few more times, over the last few days. Always with a “sowwy, mommy” that’s so sweet I can’t bear to get cross. As much as I know that I don’t want to cause any potty issues, I’m getting a little grossed out. I know that it’s a rite of parenting (are you even a parent if you haven’t held your child’s faeces in your hand?) but I am so done.

I’ve paid my dues. Handled your shit. It’s time, Toffee. Time to make a poo in the toilet, PLEASE.

In my previous life, I collected shoes and handbags. This was a life before children and when I discovered that I was pregnant, I tossed out all my heels. The handbag collection was cleared out once my firstborn arrived and I realised that a nappy bag was more important than a handbag. No longer do I collect these pretty feminine things, but still have the urge to collect something. What did I turn to? Some unusual things. It just sort of happened.

Blue willow crockery. The older, the better. If it’s from Occupied Japan, I’d pretty much shit in my pants to get it. I’m cool with the English versions of it too. Actually, I’m cool with alll of it. I have a cupboard full of blue willow teacups and I don’t even drink tea. This obsession with blue willow crockery has lead to an obsession with the pair of birds depicted in the blue willow design. Which lead me to House of Kallie’s jewelry made from old South African coins, depicting two sparrows. I wear this as my wedding ring and I have a matching necklace that my sisters bought me.

Cheeseboards. Not sure how, or why this started. I mean I love cheese, but not all cheeses. I try to stay away from cheeses that smell bad. Why I decided I needed more than one cheeseboard, who can say? I have urges. These urges involve buying cheeseboards.

Succulents. This one is not a secret, and it’s probably the most intense of all my addictions. I can’t drive anywhere without scoping out the gardens on the side of the road, looking for something new for my own garden.

Tarot decks. I haven’t used them in years, but I have more than a few of these. The fact that I can’t bring myself to part with them, means I still collect them. The urge to buy a new deck is merely dormant, until I see the right one.

Penis pamphlets. Those pamphlets that are handed out at the robot offering penis, bums, hips and breasts enlargements? Can’t get enough of them.

Teapots. Again. I don’t drink tea, but man I love me a good teapot. Even have a few in the garden, with succulents growing out of them.

Windchimes. I have these hung in the trees in the garden. My garden barely gets enough wind for them to tinkle, but I don’t care. Still makes me happy.

Recipe books. Can’t resist. Adore them. Yet only land up liking/trying 2-3 recipes from each book.

How bad is my urge to collect? So bad that my husband banned me from spending time on bidorbuy, trolling the antiques and collectibles sections. Not so bad that my house belongs on an episode of Extreme Hoarders.

I hate malls. I hate shopping. Unless it’s by myself and the mall is pretty empty, and I’m not in a rush to get anywhere else. This scenario is rare. Which is why I’ve taken to doing some things on the interwebs.

I ordered:The Eazilay Hammock Stand.I love: That I can move this hammock around. How comfortable it is. It’s like an instant holiday feeling. It’s comfortable and sturdy, no matter where you place it.I paid with: I didn’t pay for it. It was a gift, as the business owner is a family friend.Shipping was: Courier service. Fast, efficient, reliable.

I love: that I saved a ton of money. Normally I’d spend about two grand minimum on glasses at the optometrist, which is why I’ve worn the same pair for more than 7 years. It cost me R609 for two pairs of specs, including postage.

I paid with: my debit card. Again. International site.

Shipping was: To my local post office. It took more than a month, but it was worth the wait.

Most moms say this, and I guess that would be because it’s true. My kids are funny. The things they say and do? Hilarious. Worth writing down. Worth remembering, so I can retell them one day, when they’re all grown up.

[A week or so ago.]

The Kid. Age 8:

Him: Mom, did you know that the word “octopus” has a bad word in it?Me: Oh, really.Him: Yes. Octo-piss. Piss is a bad word, isn’t it?Me: Yes, the worst! (thinking about all the times I’ve said the P-word in traffic)

[Last weekend]

Toffee. Age 2 years, 11 months.

Toffee has a bedtime ritual. Sleep delay tactics. Once he’s in bed, he must call me 3/4 times to his room for something, before he can fall asleep. Usually it’s milk, or a cuddle. Sometimes another blanket, sometimes a kiss. This time? “Here mom, take this booger.”

It’s no secret I’m obsessed with succulents. It’s my thing. I’ve embraced the infatuation. I have succulents everywhere in my garden, my front patio is constantly cluttered with pots filled with baby succulents and there are cuttings all over the outside table. My husband has given up complaining about the mess, bless him.

It’s an obsession that other people are starting to take interest in so I wanted to share what I’ve learned with you. (You can read about how to propagate succulents from a leaf and how to plunder other people’s pavement gardens over here.) What I’ve discovered from growing these plants myself in my own garden.

Stapelia grandiflora –

Long, slender columns. Colour of the plant can vary from dark green, to red-purple.

Perennial (grows all year round) groundcover. Fairly fast growing.

Low water needs. Prefers dry soil that drains easily after rain.

Will flower frequently, but only if it’s happy.

Flowers are large, ugly-looking and they smell really bad. Like rotting meat.

This is because these flowers are pollinated by flies, not bees.

They like a lot of sun and need between 3-4 hours of full sun a day.

Stealing level: Easy to snap off a piece, easy to grow from cuttings.

Because they grow in runners, they make good container plants.

When it comes to frost, these are tender and will need to be covered.

Agave horrida –

Also known as papery tiger, because of the shape of the jagged leaves.

Rosette-shaped, dark green leaves with white marginal thorns. You’ll want to be careful of the thorns, as they’re poisonous and make you itchy if you get scratched.

Slow growing, needs full sun. Low water needs. This one is in a pot that hardly ever gets water.

Stealing level: Difficult. You have to get the full plant, because it’s a slow grower. Difficult also because of thorns. Have not tried propagating from a leaf, does not seem advisable. Worth purchasing.

I’ve had it for almost a year and it has not yet flowered.

I’ve read that it’s frost-tolerant and hardy, but I have not experienced this yet for myself.

Echeveria elegans –

Also known as rock roses, desert roses, hen and chicks.

Light blue rosettes, tinged with pink. Groundcover.

Fast growing, medium water needs.

Will grow just about anywhere, in hardly any soil.

Loves full sun. If planted in shade, the stems will grow taller and the plants will look lanky, pale and sickly.

Stealing level: easy. Snap off the rosette with a little piece of stem and you’re good to go. Grows new roots quickly. Can propagate easily from leaf.

Frost tolerance: not high

These flower in late spring, early summer.

These plants break quite easily, but the leaves will grow (where they fall) into new plants.

Two boys? They’re hard work. I never expected to have children; it simply wasn’t in my life plan. Luckily that decision was made for me (both boys were accidental surprises) and I’m glad I got these two boys.

My firstborn: I love that you tell me I’m the best mother in the world. Even though I know it’s not true, and it’s only because you don’t know any better. You accept me as I am, and love me even though I am tough on you and sometimes seem a little mean. You know forgiveness and understanding beyond your years, and I’m grateful for it.

I’m not always as attentive as I should be. I’m not always as patient as I could be. I expect a lot from you and it’s easy for me to forget that you’re only 8 because I barely remember what it was like to be just 8. You’re so big and so tall, it’s easy to forget that you’re still little. That you’re still learning boundaries. That you’re still learning how to be you.

I love when you put your hand in mine, as we’re walking through the shops. I love that you’re not (yet) ashamed to kiss your mother goodbye in the school parking lot. I love how curious you are, even though it means a million questions I can barely answer. I love how hard you’ve tried this year. I know it’s not easy dealing with ADD, when you barely know you have it. But you’ve persisted, put in the effort at school and with karate. I’m proud of you.

I love how big and selfless you are with your little brother. How you don’t mind when he raids your room for toys or wants to watch Planet 51 for the umpteenth time. I watched you helping him climb the jungle gym at the park the other day, and my heart almost burst. When you give up a toy you’re playing with because your brother wants it, (and wants it purely because you’re playing with it) these kindnesses don’t go unnoticed.

I love how you got your dad’s blue eyes and my family’s big ears. That your feet have grown two shoe sizes in the last few months, because it means you’re going to be tall. But I know that no matter how tall you get, you’ll always be soft-hearted. You’re the kind of person that wants to avoid conflict as much as possible, and that’s okay. I’m that kind of person too. Your dad is right about having to learn to stick up for yourself, but there’s plenty of time for you to learn that still.

My secondborn Toffee: I love that you showed me how much room there is in my heart. Despite the fact that you’ve turned out to be more hard work than your brother ever was. Those people who said second babies are easier? Lied. You were easy in the first few months, but as soon as you learned how to communicate and how to demand your own way, that phase was over.

Dealing with your stubbornness tests my patience daily. You’ve subjected us to meltdowns in the supermarket, bawling sessions that have lasted longer than an hour and you’ve just about done our heads in with your spectacular ability to whine, but we still love you. Because you have a wicked smile, and an infectious laugh. I admire that you know what you want, and that you’re not prepared to compromise what you want. I know that it will serve you well as an adult. I’m just trying my best to survive you as a toddler.

You’re more independent than I expected, constantly telling me “I’ve got this” when I offer to do something for you, or help you. This pleases me. Self-reliance is important. But at the same time it breaks my heart just a little. As your dad says, it’s a little sad not to have a baby in the house anymore. You do things in your own time, and I’m learning to accept that. Trying not to push you. I didn’t get it right with your brother; maybe I’ll get it right with you.

I love the way you look up to your big brother. Even though you’re not yet 3, you’re already sticking up for him. I threatened to give your brother a smacked bum the other day and you immediately admonished me: “don’t hit my brother, mommy!”. I suspect when the two of you are grown your brother might be bigger but you’ll still be the one sticking up for him.

I love both of you. I love that I get to be your mom. You fill my heart and my time with good things. You fill my house with mess and noise. You fill my arms with hugs. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I love blogging. But lately, it’s been hard to find the words to blog, since I use up so many of my words on a daily basis to pay the bills. Doing what you love, for yourself, is hard when you’re doing it for other people constantly. So what’s changed since the last time I blogged? Everything, but also nothing. Let me explain.

I have survived freelance life for an entire year now. It was exceptionally scary and stressful at first, getting past the whole mindset of “how do I pay my bills without a monthly salary” thing. At first, I was job-hunting like mad. Went for interview after interview after interview. Found more than a few jobs that sounded like they would be perfect for me. Got my hopes up a few times. And was disappointed each time. There was always something that would crop up during the interview process that would be a deal-breaker for me. Each little disappointment took its toll on my confidence and I soon realised that I was pretty much unemployable. Not because I lacked skills or because I was shit at my job, purely because I asked for too much flexibility.

My demands were unfathomable, apparently. The fact that I was prepared to get in early to the office every day, skip my lunch break and work nights as well did not justify wanting to leave the office mid-afternoon to fetch my kids from school and take my firstborn to his afternoon sports. “Flexi time” is a concept that most employers only pay lip service to in as much as it means “in the office from 9-5 and there when we need you.” The only way to get flexi time is to make it yourself. That realisation lead me to stop job hunting. One year later, and I’m constantly busy. I’ve worked on some exciting projects, some not-so-exciting projects, and I’ve paid my bills. Without a salary. Plus taken the entire month of April off from working, just because I could.

Our boys are getting bigger. By the day. Growing in front of our eyes. Our firstborn seems to have settled into Grade 3. He’ll be turning 9 this year. This Kid is sweet, kind, obnoxious, smart-mouthed and sensitive. He’s been through so much in the last year, and shown me how strong and caring he is. It’s so funnyweird seeing so much of yourself, in a little person. So much of yourself that it damn near breaks your heart, because you know how hard it is and how hard it can be.

Toffee is turning 3 next month. He’s potty training. He’s wearing underpants. Massive achievement, because this time last month he’d have a total meltdown when I even mentioned wearing underpants instead of a nappy. It all started at playgroup, and I’m happy that he’s happy to make a wee in the toilet. The playgroup that my husband found for Toffee seems to be a good place for him. He’s learning so much and is always coming home with handmade crafts and new songs to sing.

I am constantly blown away by how different my children are from each other. Toffee is stubborn to a fault while our firstborn isn’t. He’s persistent, but not stubborn. Toffee has thrown some spectacular full-blown tantrums about getting his own way, while The Kid has never. When Toffee starts having a meltdown, he gets sent to his room. Not quite 3 years old, this one, and he’s already slamming doors. This child was definitely sent to test my patience.

We got a kitten. A little grey ball of terror. We walked into a pet store to buy dog leashes, and walked out with a kitten. (Yes, I know I should have adopted from a cat shelter, but I saved that kitty from the pet store.) As my husband walked in the door, a little grey ball of fluff hooked him through the cage. My husband opened the cage, plucked out a handful of fur and hisses, handed it to me and it was game over. Heart melt instantly.

His name is Astro and he pretty much goes everywhere with me. He comes with for the school run in the mornings, comes out to coffee with the moms and is with me when I have to go in to the office as well. Loves belly rubs and car rides – basically he’s not your typical cat. He sleeps next to my pillow at night. He’s tolerant and playful with the kids. He’s much loved.

I have made time to do the things I enjoy doing. I’ve made more time for me. I’ve spent lots of time in the garden, planting and caring for my succulent collection. I’ve been to the library and actually read the books I’ve checked out. I’ve gone for massages, met friends for coffee and taken naps. I’ve binge-watched Grey’s Anatomy and Shameless, and gone back to watch Charmed from the beginning. I could say that’s why I haven’t had time to blog, but that’s not true. I haven’t blogged because I haven’t had the words. But now the words are back, and hopefully I can keep using them here.

I have learned to say “fuck it, I’m done” more often. Which includes learning how to say “no”. This has been a big thing for me, and it was as hard to learn this lesson, as it was to accept that I’m secretly a people-pleaser. Which is not always a good thing. So I’ve learned to say fuck it. To shit that doesn’t matter. To things that don’t interest me. To people that wouldn’t have my back the way I’d have theirs. To doing things just because it’s expected of me. It’s been liberating. I’ve also learned to say “fuck it, let’s do this thing”. Why? Because it’s not good to get stuck in a comfort zone. New things aren’t going to learn themselves. Challenge is good. Change is good. Scary, but good.

With such a long holiday in December/January, most parents look forward to their kids going back to school in January. I am no different. It’s a long six weeks at home, with both kids, because as a freelance copywriter, I’m always busy and I’m always working. Even though I took 20 days off this time around I still looked forward to my kids going back to school. This is what I learned about back to school, this year:

1. My kid(s) will always get sick the day before school starts. I was at the doctor with my eldest, the day before school was due to start. We were lucky that it was an ear infection, and that he didn’t have to miss his first day of Grade 3.

2. I should never leave the labeling of stationery and uniforms to the last minute. The pre-ordered labels never arrived with my child’s stationery pack (ordered in 2015) and I only opened it the day before school, so I landed up spending 5 hours cutting out millions of little names and sticky taping them to every little thing. I also wrestled with contact paper, got covered in glue and cursed my way through wrapping lever arch files and labeling a million crayons, pencil crayons, pastels and coloring pens.

3. While it’s really easy to fall out of routine because it’s holiday time, getting back into routine because it’s no longer holiday time is really difficult. Getting out of bed at 5am when the alarm goes off is hard. Not sleeping in is hard. Not having afternoon naps is hard. I’m not looking forward to homework starting again, in addition to a jam-packed schedule of extra murals for my eldest.

4. My firstborn will get a picture taken of him on his first day back at school. My secondborn will get his picture taken on the second day back at school. Second child syndrome. We have it in this house.5. My secondborn will also only be totally stoked to go to school, for the first two days. Thereafter it will be snot and tears every morning at drop off, and he’ll cling to your leg with tears in his eyes for good measure.

6.Everything changes, in the jump from Grade 2 to Grade 3. It becomes a lot more complicated – complicated school finishing times (a different time on Wednesdays and Fridays) and complicated sports schedules (one sport in blue week, another in red week and check the notice board to see if you made the teams) and more homework and tests and shit. Just as I’d come to grips with his extramural timetable and homework needs in 2015, the year ended and they kicked it up 5 notches for 2016.

7. My firstborn is suddenly almost as tall as I am. He can lift me off the ground when he hugs me. He wears a size 2 shoe and he’s suddenly all long legs and pointy elbows. It’s scary. He’s only 8. But also, he’s EIGHT, when he was only just a newborn the other day.

8. The overwhelming urge to look for a pause button, just to stop the growing up, is strongest in back-to-school week. It’s the unmissable reminder that my kids are getting bigger, growing closer to no longer needing me. Before I know it they’ll be big, smelly obnoxious teenage boys.

9. My secondborn is no longer a baby. He’s talking full sentences and he’s suddenly so demanding. It’s time to potty train and to get rid of the dummy, but he’s just not having it. We head straight to meltdown city if I suggest wearing underpants instead of a nappy, or if I suggest he leaves his dummy in the car while we go to the shops.

10. It’s back to juggling a million things. Juggling work deadlines, client demands with school routines, homework, family time and everything else in between. Trying to squeeze in some time with my husband, time to take care of myself, my two cats, two dogs and the house and garden.

I miss being on holiday already and I’m pretty sure they do too.

Thanks to LG Mobile South Africa for inviting me to participate in their Back to School campaign. I will be trying out the LG G4 over the next few weeks and seeing how it compares to my beloved iPhone 6. It’s already won me over with its incredible camera. But will I be able to cope with the fact that it’s Android and not iOS? We’ll see.